Old Friend

I am a licensed - registered fishing guide specializing in fly fishing float trips for trout and smallmouth bass on New Hampshire's Upper Connecticut River. My Guests have had many good days on the Upper C along with a few challenging outings. On occasion we experience the disappointment of "The One That Got Away".

This particular story was not on the Upper C but in upstate New York, near the town of Sandy Creek. This was while on a personal fishing trip. The high water run off came early this year, sometime in early March. March through mid April found the conditions of very low water and few steelhead. Finally towards late April it began to rain heavily causing the rivers and creeks to swell over their banks. These are the conditions that bring in plenty of large, fresh, lake run rainbows often called steelhead or steelies. The only drawback was that the water was at flood stage in the rivers, muddy and not fishable. The main runs had already occurred but it has been my experience that the high water could bring in another run of fresh fish. In another few weeks there wouldn't be an opportunity for a personal fishing vacation. It was either now or give up the spring steelheading trip this year. I knew of a good creek, an old friend, which had shared her steelies with me in the past. Perhaps this high water brought in some fresh fish. An added bonus was that this particular water cleared quickly and might be fishable. Also on the upside, there were very few fisherman in the area because of the difficult conditions. If I was able to locate some fish there wouldn't be any competition. Steelhead are here today and gone tomorrow. Even if fish were not found, I was still going to have a good time.

I arrived at the creek around 1 p.m. The present easy rain didn't phase me as waders and rain gear were put on. My outlook greatly improved when I saw the condition of the water to be fished. The creeks velocity was intense but she was running fairly clear. The decision was made to leave the steelhead net in the truck because it was cumbersome, especially with all the hiking involved. Spiked Korker Sandals would be a neccessity because her rocks were also very slick. I felt the chances of finding fish were fair to good. After rigging the 7 weight fly rod, I slowly started working my way upstream while checking out every pocket and possible lie.

She's a beautiful, fast flowing creek containing an abundance of rapids and pockets having an average depth of about 20 inches, with runs, pools and tailouts around 3 to 4 feet. She changes character from gravel, to baseball and softball sized stone, to boulder and ledge and then back again. The banks alternate on each side from woodland to high bluffs and then back again. The high water conditions create a heavy froth through and below each rapid while the sounds of fast water tumbling over rocks and gravel mesmerized me. What a wonderful place to be. I was intoxicated by visual beauty and the sounds and scent of a fast flowing creek during its spring unleashing. It didn't matter if this living entity was barren of steelhead. I was already having a great time.

Cast and drift. Cast and drift. Cover my temples with the inside of my palms to block out any excess light, while visually scouring each and every possible lie for movement, color, shape or an unnatural riffling of surface water. I just purchased a pair of quality, optically correct, polarized sunglasses and was pleased with their performance. My ability to see and make out shapes below the surface was very good.

I recall a past trip to this creek with a friend who had on a pair of U.V. protection sunglasses which were not polarized. Many times I spotted fish for him, pointed them out, but he still couldn't see them. When I asked him to try my extra pair he immediately started spotting fish. They often appear as a grayish blotch on the stream bottom. Any serious steelheader must have polarized sunglasses, I told myself while working the water. Many recommend gray lenses for bright sunny conditions while amber, brown or copper are best for low light. I prefer amber, brown or copper for all fishing because they help to show clarity and shape below the surface much better than gray.

After hiking in for over 2 miles, I found a pod of unusually large steelhead. I estimated they ranged in size from 12 to 20 plus pounds. The high water had brought in a run of spawning fish from Lake Ontario, probably the last of the season. This was the Mother Lode. They would probably do their job and be gone in two or three days. The females were a bright chrome while the males were bright with a colorful reddish fluorescent reddish pink gill plate and flank. I believed they were fresh in from the lake.

It was now 4 p.m. There's nothing I can say to describe my experience the next 3 hours. All alone with all those steelhead. In 20 years of steelheading, I have never found so many fish in one place and so many large fish. I hardly noticed that it had been raining all along. Now it had increased to a torrential downpour accompanied by violent lighting and thunder. Good judgment gave in to the moment and I remained. This was my dream for the past ten years. I may never luck into an opportunity like this again. Its time to take a bite of the apple.

I thought to myself that if struck by lighting my body may not be found for a week. Perish the thought. The creek rose quickly. In a matter of a few hours she had turned into a mini raging river. The water greatly discolored but still I remained as if possessed. I was in the right place at the right time, I kept telling myself.

They big rainbows were holding in good spawning gravel above a long heavy rapid. About 150 feet upstream there was another heavy rapid. I felt that these fish were hot to spawn and did not want to fight their way through another rapid. Ye-ooow! That lightning was close. Man, I can feel the thunder in the pit of my stomach.

I remember one huge hen that took 5 feet from me, jumped and immediately made a beeline fifty feet to the rapid below. She jumped in the middle of the rapid while I was trying to follow then moved up quickly to jump in front of me. Next this silver bullet became airborn again about fifty feet upstream, made another extremely fast run, then cart wheeled in the rapid 150 feet above me and broke off. My screaming reel quickly became silent. How could she move so fast and with such power? I retied with 10 pound instead of 8 while trying to regain my composure and develop a plan. After 2 1/2 hours I still hadn't landed one but lost another 5 or 6. A couple of fished snapped the line and a couple were lost on leaps and cartwheels. These fresh fish were electric. One huge male shook free and won his freedom near the end of a 20 minute battle and just inches from my grasp.

The creek soon became almost unfishable. The water resembled dark chocolate milk. The steelies were very hard to make out as they would appear as a large grayish blotch surrounded by dark brown. I decided that my only chance was to switch from a number 10 green butt skunk ( a good steelhead pattern anywhere ) to a large size 2 chartreuse pattern with more weight attached, 2 feet above. I also replaced my tippet to 15 pound. I really wanted to land at least one of these things and felt that considering the conditions a heavier line plus a larger, flashier fly would be in my favor.

Finally, after casting to a large grayish blotch surrounded by brown water a dozen times, I began to doubt if it was really a fish. Then it happened. The 20 pound plus buck jumped a few feet in front of me. In that magic moment, I could make out his beautiful colored up flanks and gill plates, just like they were on fire, the double crimson stripe down his side and my fly stuck firmly in the corner of his mouth. Quickly, I followed him downstream through the rapid and around the bend. I was determined to land this trophy.

I rounded the bend in hot pursuit with a screaming reel. Then my heart sank. Lying across the stream was a large maple and the huge rainbow had gone under and was still taking line. He jumped, then stopped running about 50 feet below my position. I had a chance. Slowly and smoothly I started pumping him with the hopes of being able to work him back through the blow down. It was a long shot at its best but still better than no chance. I had him moving with slow and easy pumps. With only a few feet more to go he had enough. His next run was long and hard. My reel screamed and rod bent as this huge, fish of a lifetime ran around another bend and continued moving fast and strong as if there were no end to his stamina. The steelies last run seemed like it lasted an hour but in reality was only 8 or 10 seconds. He shook free and was gone. So there I was again. One moment the wealthiest man in the world linked to the ultimate opponent, a large, fresh run, buck steelhead on a fly rod. The next moment, except for the memory, alone and humbled.

It was now 7 p.m. Getting out with light was imperative. I only had 40 minutes left until dark. The footing was difficult even with Korkers but I also had to contend with the many alternating bluffs. This required numerous crossings against the increased water velocity. I ran almost the entire way. Believe me, the dry clothes in my truck were a welcome sight. I drove back to the motel for a nice hot shower and then dinner at my favorite Pulaski restaurant. My thoughts were full of the day experiences. I began to plan for how I was going to do a better job the following morning. I just wanted to land one.

It continued raining heavy all night, stopping around 5:30 a.m. the next morning, while I was having breakfast. Upon arriving at and inspecting the creek, I knew it was to no avail. She was not fishable - Zero Visibility. The prospects were that perhaps she would clear in a couple of days but another heavy rain is due tomorrow. With gratitude for the previous days fishing I packed my equipment and prepared myself for the ride home.

Never have I had an experience (adventure) like the day before and only a five hour drive from my home in Vermont. I could see the fish, get them to take and then could not land a one. It was a wonderful encounter of which to this day, I have not experienced a higher high. This creek possessed all the charms of a beautiful woman, the same ability to intoxicate your senses, give up nothing, control your emotions, leave you broken and humble and yet still have you begging for more. This beautiful creek had given me opportunity along with unforgettable, treasured memories. I could not stop thinking of each and every lost battle of the previous days fishing nor did I want to. Thank You Old Friend!